Choices Made & Courses Taken
by Hearing the woRd
Summary: I'm seventeen now and I've had my fair share of problems in life. I've turned the darkest corners and hit the deepest rock bottoms. So sitting in front of you and telling my story, it's not going to be easy. But judgments aren't to be made here. I was told this is a safe place.
1. Chapter 1

I'm seventeen now and I've had my fair share of problems in life. I've turned the darkest corners and hit the deepest of rock bottoms. So sitting in front of you and telling my story, it's not going to be easy.

But judgments aren't to be made here.

I was told this is a safe place.

All I have to do is recount everything leading up to this point in my life, right? Well let me warn you, my story is not short, and it is most definitely not simple.

**YEAR 1**

.

Ten years. That's how long I've known Derrick. He kind of stumbled into my life. Not in a drunken blur, but rather in a moment of frantic searching.

What he was looking for, I wasn't sure. In fact, I'm not exactly sure even till this very day. I just know that the look in his eyes, they were set on something.

"Hi," that was the first word he said to me. It was simple, short, yet it made me catch my breath.

"Hi," I replied, my eyes as wide as they would open and my pupils as still as our empty surroundings. "Are you looking for something?"

"What?" He immediately blinked away the look of panic from his eyes.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion but didn't question him further. That was the first of many mistakes I would make when it came to Derrick Harrington.

.

Turns out he was new to the neighborhood.

The second time I saw him was when our mothers were getting acquainted over tea. Mine had invited his to join her for the afternoon, why he had tagged along I didn't know.

I will admit it was beyond awkward, but we somehow managed to make conversation. He told me about all his adventures. How he had lived on every continent in the world at one point. His fights with lions, play dates with kangaroos, games with penguins and everything in between. The seven year old me soaked it all in, completely infatuated with his stories. Neither of us knew it then, but that was the day he drew me in. And one fact of life: once Derrick Harrington sucks you in, you can never be spit back out again. He's a black hole.

**YEAR 2 to YEAR 6**

.

From that day on, every time we bumped into each other we would talk.

He would tell me stories and I would laugh.

I would teach him all the shortcuts in our small town and he would take diligent notes in his mind.

Before long, he was the one leading me through confusing, zigzagging streets and secret pathways on wild adventures.

**YEAR 7**

.

I still remember the last day of summer before eighth grade.

It was humid out. The sun was towering over us in a blaze of anger and glory.

The heat didn't affect him, but it sure as hell bothered me.

He tried to calm me down but I wouldn't relax. I mean how could I when my face felt like it was going to slowly burn away?

I kept complaining, for hours on end, it seemed. When he had finally heard enough of my obnoxious cries he got up from his recumbent position on the ground, grabbed me by the wrist, and pulled me along on yet another one of our crazy adventures. "You're really annoying, you know."

Even though I knew he was joking, something about how he had said it was off beat. He didn't look at me and laugh but rather breathed it under his breath. I didn't think much of it, but in reality I should have known the second his hand touched mine that everything was going to change.

First, he took me to Ole' Charlie's Ice Cream Parlor so I would "shut the hell up." He paid for the both of our French vanilla sugar cones.

After we finished, he led me to the old arcade located in between a dark alley and a candy shop. It was one of our favorite getaway spots. We always went there when we wanted to let off steam about the problems in our lives.

The owner, Mr. MacIntyre, was a slovenly man in his late fifties with a messy beard and a golden heart. He was the type of person you would find handing out twenty-dollar bills to the needy even though he was barely able to feed himself. We liked him, and sometimes, even if we didn't need to get away from our lives, Derrick and I would go down to the Arcade to visit him. We knew he got lonely sometimes—what with the slow business and runaway bride.

That day, we played hoops and talked to Mr. MacIntyre until the sun went down. I swear I laughed more in that one afternoon than I ever have in my life.

When it was time to go home for dinner, Derrick took me by my hand again, this time with his fingers woven into mine, and led me through the busy streets.

But instead of taking our usual route home, he steered us toward the west and took me to a morass surrounded by lush greenery.

It was there, in that new surrounding filled with dirt and nature, that he leaned in and kissed me. Not on the lips, but on the forehead. A soft, gentle, completely innocent peck.

We were both silent for a while. Standing, entirely still, in the muddy swamp. I was confused. Why had he done that? What did it mean?

Instead of explaining himself, he just took me by the hand again and escorted me safely home like he had done all the previous nights before.

As we walked in silence something to my left caught my attention. I looked over to see a gleaming star that shone brighter than all the others in the misty sky. "Sirius," I whispered, "it's the brightest star in the sky. My mom says, as long as you can find that star in the sky, you'll know that the universe is at peace and everything is okay." I said it so quietly I didn't even know if Derrick had heard me.

When we got to my house we awkwardly said our goodbyes and I watched him walk off in the direction of his house down the street.

Looking back now, I was definitely right about one thing that day: everything would change, and sadly, it wouldn't be for the better.

**YEAR 7.2**

.

We all know that people express themselves differently.

On the first day of eighth grade, I was introduced to a completely new form of self-expression. One I didn't know existed until Derrick demonstrated it to me.

He ignored me. What he was trying to express, I'm not so sure. That I was embarrassing to be around? That we were no longer friends? That he hated me? Whatever it was it was inevitable.

When I approached him to say hello, he inched away and glared at me. It was one of those looks of suspicion that girls usually aimed at strange men in the park.

Of course, I wasn't discouraged. Maybe he was sick and didn't want me to get too close. "Hey Derrick," I waved with a huge smile on my face.

Again he inched away.

"Are you OK?" I took a step forward.

"No, I have to go," and with that he ran for his life down the courtyard all the way to the F building. That ignoring act he had going, it bothered me, and I'm pretty sure he knew damn well how badly I wanted him to stop.

It was like that for the rest of eighth grade. By the end of the first week, I had stopped trying to approach him. By the end of the second, I had stopped trying to catch his eye. And by the end of the third, it was almost as if I never knew Derrick Harrington at all.

I was back to a life without Derrick.

And to tell you the truth, I felt like I was dying everyday. Just because he stopped talking to me didn't mean I was out of the black hole. I was still stuck in a spiral of infatuation. More than ever.

**YEAR 7.7**

.

On the last day of school, I went with a friend to visit Mr. MacIntyre in the Arcade.

Fine, I went with a boy. Kemp Hurely to be exact. I guess it had been a long time since Mr. MacIntyre had seen me at the Arcade with anyone. I still continued visiting him, even without Derrick. He never questioned it though; knowing it probably didn't come with a good story. But on that day, when he saw me with a boy, curiosity just got he best of him.

"Well hello ther' young lady, who migh'chu have ther' wit'chu?"

I introduced Kemp as my friend but that didn't fool Mr. MacIntyre. He knew we had a "thing" going and he let me know by dealing out an ungainly wink.

Kemp and I hung around for a little, playing a few games of table hockey, pinball, and whack-a-mole. We steered clear of the hoops—I know it sounds stupid but I had wanted to save it special for Derrick if he ever decided he wanted to talk to me again.

Some other kids from school and around town were there. It was probably the busiest I had seen the Arcade in a while. Kids were constantly pilling in and out through the wide-open garage doors.

When Derrick walked in with a group of boys and girls from our grade, I was definitely caught off guard. I felt like I hadn't seen him in years when in fact it was only a couple of weeks.

Our eyes met for a few seconds, but like every other time before, he was the first to pull away.

For the rest of that night, I tried to keep my attention focused on Kemp. He was funny, cute, and extremely clever.

By the time eleven o'clock curfew came around most of the kids had gone home and the Arcade was left at its usual state of a little under ten people.

Kemp got me to go outside with him. He offered me his jacket like any other boy on a date would and I gladly accept like any other girl on a date would.

Somehow he managed to get me into the dark alleyway next door to the Arcade. We kissed. He tried to get further but I stopped him. He didn't try to persuade me, it seemed he was perfectly fine with just making out. After we both had enough, he walked me home and kissed me goodnight one last time.

That night, before I got in bed, I brushed my teeth. Twice.

I had just kissed a boy. My first real kiss. Gone, just like that. No moonlit lake, no sparking Ferris wheel, no fireworks. And worst of all, no Derrick.

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**Author's Note: **Yet another new story but GOOD NEWS: I've already written most of this one so I will update it regularly! Isn't that exciting? Please remember to comment with notes!


	2. Chapter 2

**YEAR 7.8**

.

During summer of eighth grade, Kemp and I became "official."

I came to learn that he could be really sweet if he tried. He pulled out chairs, opened doors, and complimented me every chance he got. He made me feel like a real princess.

That whole summer went by in a blur, except that one night. I still remember that night like it was just yesterday. And as clear as it is right now, I still can't quite wrap my head around it.

The thing is it happened so fast that I didn't even consider the consequences.

That night, my mother had invited the Harringtons over for dinner, unknown to my knowledge, of course. That would be why Kemp was over and we were snuggled up oh-so-tightly on the couch enjoying Sleepless in Seattle on Netflix.

Midway into my bawl-fest, with my face buried deep in Kemp's clean white T-shirt, was when the Harringtons walked in, bearing wine and fruit baskets.

Yes, my wet and blotchy face greeted the four of them with complete shock, eyes wide and mouth agape.

His older sister, Sammy, whom I had come to know pretty well, responded by bursting out laughing while Mr. and Mrs. Harrington tried to conceal their snickers. Derrick on the other hand, squinted his eyes and looked at the both of us pointedly with a frown.

After apologizing for the mess—referring to the piles of opened food on the coffee table and my disastrous face—I ran upstairs, cleaned myself up and changed into a clean shirt.

When I got back down, my mom had invited Kemp to join us for dinner since he was "already here." He gladly accepted because my mom's food is near heavenly.

At the dining table, everything was beyond uncomfortable; even our parents could sense the tension. Derrick was glaring at Kemp and me from across the table even though we weren't doing anything other than eating. I avoided eye contact with anyone at all costs, keeping my head bent a little too close to the salad in front of me. Our parents were trying to make friendly conversation and ignore the "teen angst" that was slowly suffocating all of us.

"So, I hear Derrick has found interest in soccer." My mom offered.

"Ah, yes, he's been practicing with a couple of his new friends after school." His mom responded in a sensible tone.

"Say, Kemp, don't you play soccer as well?" _No Mom! _Don't_ do it!_ I begged silently in my head but like any other parent who would "never understand" she suggested it anyway, "You and Derrick should practice sometime together." She smiled so sweetly at the both of them that they had to awkwardly acknowledge each other with forced grins.

The rest of supper felt similar to being stuck in a gas chamber since I felt like every breath I took would lead to my inevitable death.

But something did come out of that painful dinner. While I was sitting in my seat, staring intently at the green leaves and red cranberries in my dish, I was able to think. I thought about how even though Kemp was funny and attractive, he wasn't charming or endearing. He was just another cute boy at school that I just somehow ended up going out with. My mom always told me I deserved someone special and Kemp, I realized, wasn't that someone.

Maybe it was an obligation, like I didn't want my first kiss to be wasted on "just some boy". I wanted to make something out of that night in the alleyway. But no matter how many times I tried to convince myself I did, I never felt that spark when we kissed.

That's why I ended it after dinner. I broke up with him on the same couch we had snuggled together on just a few hours earlier. He wasn't exactly shocked. He probably never felt that spark go off either. That's when I realized we were both stuck in a pathetic rut that neither of us cared enough of to get out of.

At the time, I didn't know why I did it in such a rush until further reflection allowed me to realize that no matter how hard I tried to deny it, Derrick was the reason. He was the catalyst that stirred the pot with his forceful and angry gaze. I could have waited for a more appropriate time, like after the Harringtons had left. Yet I can't help but hope that maybe Derrick would swoop in as my prince once my misidentified knight left.

But he didn't.

After Kemp went home, I found myself staring at Derrick from across the room. He was looking at me too, but his face was emotionless. He saw my plea for help but he didn't do anything about it. Just stood there and stared at me in complete silence.

And for the first time that year, I broke eye contact first.

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**Author's Note: **Big thank you to everyone who reviewed and subscribed. To answer the question of who the narrator is, let's just say you can pick. Of course her identity will eventually be revealed but for now she is whomever you see fit (she is definitely one of the main girls from the book though).


	3. Chapter 3

**YEAR 8**

.  
Thank God for seating charts.

The first day of ninth grade, I was lucky enough to sit next to Derrick in biology.

Thank God for Ms. Roy who was a little too fond of social interaction.

The very first thing we did in class was introduce ourselves to "the person next to you, who will be your lab partner for the first semester of this school year."

One semester. That, I thought, would be more than enough for me to win Derrick over.

Big mistake.

.

The first few days were hard.

After several attempts at conversation that crossed the border of usual formalities (ie. Borrowing a pencil or getting the homework assignment), Derrick still wouldn't talk to me. Whenever I brought up the weekend, the weather, or anything unrelated to class, he would give me a cold stare and say something about needing to focus because, apparently, biology was very, very difficult.

Difficult my ass. All we were learning the first week was each other's names.

Derrick was playing up the ignoring card more than ever and it was driving me insane. For four days straight, I went home wanting to pull my hair out, and the next day I would go to class wanting to pull his out instead.

By the end of the first Friday of the school year I just about had enough of being snubbed. Why did I have to put up with him? I never—and this conclusion was finally realized after a whole year of deliberation—ever did anything that could have possibly earned me that kind of a punishment. He had no right whatsoever to keep me dangling on the edge of a cliff wondering everyday if he would help lend a hand.

Want to shun me out of your life? Well, two could play at that game.

I was officially done with Derrick Harrington. And that day, sitting next to him in the last period of the day, I lent him a pencil for the very last time.

**YEAR 8.5**

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Sadie Hawkins Dance.

Those three words in glittery purple bubble letters hung over the entrance to our school for two weeks before the official date.

Winter Formal ruins lives. At least that's what I'd heard. Apparently it was the hotspot for pregnancy scares, STD contractions, and arrests. It was a hellhole filled to the brim with unimaginable drama. If you had asked me what I thought about it before the dance, I would have laughed, but ask me now and I can tell you that it is no exaggeration.

Winter Formal is no joke. Shit goes down. I would know.

But before shit goes down at the dance, shit goes down at school.

It's war. Girls can get very aggressive very quickly when it comes to boys.

Derrick had quite a few girls fighting over him for a while, but in the end a girl named Dylan Marvil won.

Now, if you went to my school, you would know that there wasn't any competition to begin with. Dylan was the girl with the fiery red hair and blazing emeralds that could cut through your soul with a single wink. For all anyone knew, boys were having full-blown battles on the side in desperate attempts to attract her attention.

Derrick said yes, as it was obligatory to do so, especially when it came to Dylan.

When I first heard the news, I felt something come over me. It was…strange. My shoulders suddenly drooped and my head felt heavy. Derrick and Dylan. What a match. I could just imagine what was to come. They would walk—no, parade—down the halls, Derrick, the boyfriend who couldn't care less, and Dylan, the girlfriend who cared just enough to make sure everyone else saw how perfect they were together. The class of 2012 would have their prom king and queen set in stone before the concrete was even laid down.

I was so upset about the establishment of the high school hierarchy so early on in the year that I almost decided against going to the dance at all. But on the Friday before, Chris Plovert showed up in front of my biology class, stopped me at the door and asked me to formal. Even though it was technically Sadie Hawkins, not everyone was inclined to follow tradition, especially not me.

I wasn't exactly surprised. A few of my friends had told me that he was interested. I have to admit, I kind of had a slight crush on him. I mean, he was cute, nice, and not to mention smart. Beyond smart! While the rest of us were lingering behind in biology, he was already rushing into AP Chemistry. But this also meant that he had his ins with all the upperclassmen in his advanced classes. He got invited to the craziest parties and if you were his friend, you were practically guaranteed a beer bong cup too.

I gladly accepted—after all, no better offers had come up.

.

The Saturday night of the dance, I ended up riding in a limo with Derrick Harrington—and about a dozen other people.

Apparently Chris was good friends with Josh Hotz, who was buddy-buddy with Cam Fisher, who was practically in a bromance with Derrick. So I got to be cramped inside a car that was clearly past its carrying capacity, sandwiched between Chris and Dylan—who was practically on top of Derrick—on a ride that lasted about twenty minutes too long.

The music in the car was blasting way too loud, Chris was too engaged in a conversation with Josh to even bother looking at me, and Dylan was trying way too hard to attract attention to Derrick and herself. So, before the dance had even officially begun, I could tell it wasn't going to be a fun one.

.

When we actually arrived at the downtown club our school had rented for the night, I realized that the dance was actually an exact replica of the ride there, except on a bigger scale.

The music was even louder, if that was possible.

Chris and I shared a few dances, but other than that, he spent most of his time mingling.

Dylan made sure she and Derrick were in the exact center of the dance floor where everyone else could see them, and even though Derrick was clearly uncomfortable with all the attention they were getting he didn't do anything to stop it.

And as uncomfortable as it made me, I didn't either.

.

I had been just about ready to leave when Principal Burns suddenly dragged me into a back room. I was surprised to find everyone I had shared the limo with earlier all sitting in awkward silence. I was completely confused until Principal Burns explained the whole situation to the herd of us.

Turned out, the police had come to ruin the party. A whole squad, in fact, had arrive at the dance hall and were waiting patiently for us outside the building on account of someone tipping them off about a student at the dance who had carried illegal substances onto the premises.

And that's not the best part, not even close.

I learned that night that if you are in any way associate with someone that possessed illegal drugs, you have to get dragged down to the local police station for examination and interrogation as well.

And wasn't it just coincidental that the boy with the weed turned out to be my date?

Everyone from the limo got to pay a visit to the police station, and it just so happened that the only two people tested clean were Derrick and me.

And while we were sitting inside the freezing station, waiting for our parents to pick us up, I finally gathered the courage to ask Derrick the one question I had wanted the answer to for the past year.

"What did I do wrong?"

The silence that followed my question polluted the air all around us. I felt tears gather along my lash line and just as a drop spilled out the corner of my eye I heard him say it.

"Nothing."

His voice was so soft and gentle. And if it wasn't for the small smile on his lips I would have sworn I imagined it.

Yet for some reason, the single thing I had been waiting for, the one answer I wanted to hear; it didn't comfort me in the least bit. In fact, I felt even angrier than I had before. He had confirmed it. I had done absolutely nothing wrong and he had let me suffer through eighth grade just...wondering.

But, _why_?

I wanted him to elaborate but couldn't bring myself to ask.

Instead, I got up and walked away, the same way he had chosen to walk away from me on that first day of eighth grade: without an explanation.

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**Author's Note: **Thank you guys for the reviews and subs! They mean a lot to me! I hope this longer chapter makes up for the short one last time :)


	4. Chapter 4

**YEAR 8.6**

.

I don't know why but after Chris came back from his two-week suspension, I kept seeing him. At one point we even became official; I think it was a few days before "the party of the year" held by none other than Dylan Marvil.

Chris was amazing—when he wasn't high.

I found myself having some of the deepest and most insightful conversations of my life with him. We would stay up late on weekends lying out on his lawn, staring up at the star spangled skies, and just talking about life, death, and all the things that came in between.

He even got me to smoke with his too. By then, our intense talks had ended and we had switched gear into making out in his room. And when neither of us was in the mood, we would just sit there and laugh.

Laugh at life.

At death.

And at all the meaningless bullshit that came in between.

.

Much of what I remember of Dylan's Summer Kickoff celebration comes in short, random flashes.

I remember ridding with Chris and his friend Landon Crane and getting a little high during the drive.

I remember, vaguely, being dragged into a game of beer pong…and repeatedly losing.

I remember playing a few hands of strip poker before being saved by Chris who brought me into one of the many guestrooms in the massive Marvil house.

But most of all, I remember waking up the morning after next to Derrick Harrington.

I was fully clothed and I trusted that Derrick would never do anything to harm me. But the image of his perfect porcelain face was burned into my mind and it made me furious. The boy who had entangled me in his web of mind games for two years now was my most prominent weakness. And since I never liked weaknesses I was set on ridding myself of this one for good.

**YEAR 9**

.

Chris loved me.

At least that's what I kept telling myself every time his actions proved otherwise.

Don't worry; he didn't hit me. I would never put up with something like that—no girl ever should.

He was just never really able to keep his hands to himself. Maybe it was because of all the drugs he was doing, but he had definitely developed an attention problem between the time we started dating and the beginning of tenth grade. It was as if he had A.D.D., but only when it came to girls. He couldn't focus on one for an extended period of time; his eye was always wondering onto the next girl down the hall.

This little problem of his had come to my attention a lot later than it had most other people. Yet, even when I found out, I didn't do anything to stop it. In fact, I promoted it in a way. His new vocation gave me more freedom and less pressure to get intimate.

It was sick and twisted.

I knew he stayed with me because I let him have his freedom but what was keeping me with him?

.

Dylan Marvil, of all people, confronted me first.

The Monday after Homecoming sophomore year she approached me in the halls and propped herself against the locker next to mine.

I was shocked to say the least and greeted her self-consciously, "Hey Dylan, what's wrong?"

She glared at me with this kind of intensity that you would never be able to imagine. Her emeralds blurred into a dense forest set ablaze by a burning blue flame. Only after I awkwardly shifted my gaze did she speak, "cut the bullshit, you know what's happening."

Truthfully, I didn't.

It's embarrassing now that I think back on it. There were so many clues scattered clumsily around me. Chris had never been sneaky with his misdeeds.

I repeatedly found jewelry that didn't belong to me in his room and he often came over to my house reeking of a new scent of skanky perfume that was clearly not mine.

Once, I even walked in on him and a girl, Cindi I think, in suspiciously close proximity. While the girl instinctively backed away, Chris was completely unaffected by my presence. He smiled at me smugly and said they were simply sharing a joint—which they were, but that certainly was not the whole story. I had nodded, joined them on his bed and accepted the weed he passed over to me.

Now that I think about it, that scenario had unfolded several times before Dylan had approached me.

She told me to "dump his sorry ass"—perhaps the most intelligible and sensible words she had ever spoken—and to stand up for myself. She said I was better than what he was making me out to be.

"And what is that exactly?"

"Pathetic." She basically spat it at me before stomping away.

.

There comes a point in life when everything just falls away to the background, even yourself. You're living life but you're not feeling it.

I lived blurred into a bland background for months on end in my sophomore year. I melted into my surroundings and couldn't pull myself out. I was lost in the land of alcohol, drugs and sex. The last one I didn't commit, thank God, but I sure as hell came close.

Every weekend I found myself at a new pothole with the same old people. Chris kept dragging me to these smoke sessions and I couldn't tell if I actually wanted to go or if it was just a hard-to-break habit like so many other things that had began piling up in my messed up life.

Everything in my life had just become so wrong. I realized it when I saw Chris in bed with all those random girls, I realized it when I showed up at the weed meetings to find no one I genuinely enjoyed the company of and I realized it when I found myself waking up in strange unfamiliar surroundings on weekends, but I just never did anything to change it.

It wasn't until I found myself lying on the ground with a layer of freshly gathered dew over my body and a throbbing pain in my brain that I discovered the problem.

It was spring break and Dylan was throwing yet another Marvil party that had become ritual to our sad suburban lives.

By the time Chris and I had shown up the party was in full swing and the floor was already piling up with spilled drinks and passed out kids.

I began mingling alone while Chris rushed off with a few of his upperclassmen friends—nothing out of the ordinary. He came back for me a few hours later and invited me out to smoke with the others. I nodded and followed him out the back door like I had done so many other times before.

I shared a joint with a circle of strangers and tried to drown out the pointless and completely unintelligent conversation they were offering up between puffs of smoke. After they got bored with the activity at hand a red headed boy suggested hotboxing. I didn't know what that was and truthfully I wasn't interested enough to find out. Chris left with them and I was left alone on Dylan's massive lawn.

"Where's your boyfriend." I don't remember how long I had been lying there staring up at the star spangled skies before I heard that distant yet familiar voice behind me.

I was too high to remember I was supposed to be avoiding him—something I had done a damn good job of for the majority of that year if I say so myself—so I just kept still and waited for him to lie down next to me. Once he did I let out a breath I didn't even realize I had been holding.

He talked with me that whole night. We let off steam about the problems in our lives like we had done the summer before eighth grade—the summer before everything turned so complicated.

I told him about Chris. How our relationship had collapsed long before it had begun. I told him about my boredom. How pointless I felt twirling around in a world I didn't have even the slightest grasp of.

And I remember most clearly telling him I missed him. I missed the summer before eighth grade. I missed Ole' Charlie's Ice Cream Parlor. I missed the Arcade and Mr. MacIntyre. I missed shooting hoops and how he always let me win. I missed Derrick Harrington and I wasn't afraid to say it out loud. A year stuck inside that damned black hole without interaction with the actual thing could really drive a person crazy. The rest of our night and our talk faded into a misty blur. I felt the faintest touch of his fingers in my hair and the lightest peck of his lips on mine. Eventually I fell asleep with everything melting away into a dream and before I knew it I was waking up alone. It was almost as if Derrick had never been there, and maybe he hadn't.

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**Author's Note**: Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed or subscribed or favorited! Since I don't have much to say here's a good song to listen to till next time: _Two Door Cinema Club_ - "_Something Good Can Work"_ (it happened to be playing on my itunes when I was revising this chapter).


	5. Chapter 5

**YEAR 9.2**

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The morning after was the most agonizing experience of my life.

I had almost made my way out of the jungle that had become of the Marvil household before I heard her voice, "You didn't really expect to get away with sleeping in my backyard without an explanation, did you?"

I turned around to find Dylan Marvil standing behind me in perfect condition as if she hadn't just partied her whole night away.

I didn't say anything, as it was perfectly clear no excuse in the world would fool her.

"Chris really has ruined you," she came closer and gathered a lock of my ruff hair in her hand, "you reek of pot and grass."

"Well I didn't really get the chance to wash away the incriminating evidence, unlike you." I retorted, all of a sudden very defensive.

"Then here's your chance, bathrooms on the second door to the left. There's spare shirts in the closet in the guest room," she said before wandering off into the kitchen.

That was invitation enough for me to hop in the shower and change into a fresh set of clothes; after all I didn't want my parents asking too many questions. While the heat had cleared my head, I was definitely not ready to find Derrick sitting on the living room couch.

The events of the night before had still been a mystery but I didn't need much else than the look in his eyes to confirm that it had happened, and while I had been high out of my mind he was perfectly sober.

"Hey," He acknowledged me softly as if I was a gentle china doll in danger of breaking with the slightest touch.

I stared back at him blankly, shocked into paralysis.

His face shifted into an expression of question as he asked me if I remembered the events of the night before.

I don't know what it was inside me that compelled me to shake my head but a look of indignation washed over his face the second he realized what the gesture meant. It meant that the night before had never happened in my mind, none of what I had said was real or true and I was as distant as I had been before.

"Oh." He mumbled, almost to himself.

An all too familiar silence passed between us before Dylan came and saved the day. "Hey babe," she smiled at Derrick as she pulled her hair out of it's perfectly messy bun. Oh, did I forget to mention that the happy couple had remained happily together since freshman year? "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

I looked up from my feet, which I had been fixated on for the past five minutes, to see that Derrick had been staring at me with another one of his unreadable expressions. "Nothing, it was stupid," he had said stiffly as he got off from the couch.

What had he wanted to talk to her about? Was it about them? About me? About us? What was it? I wanted to ask so badly but instead I thanked Dylan for letting me borrow her shower and excused myself from the Marvil estate.

I walked home that day with nausea and chest pain. Both of which continued to bother me for the rest of the year.

**YEAR 9.7**

.

Prom night is off limits to underclassmen.

That was the one rule of the supposedly "most magical night of high school", but Chris Plovert knows better than anyone that rules are meant to be broken. No, not broken, but rather restructured around him. His good friend Landon Crane had invited him, the only underclassman, to the Four Seasons after party he was hosting. And as Chris' girlfriend I was obligatorily invited as well.

All of a sudden I became the most sought after friend in the sophomore class. Even Dylan Marvil started warming up to me in hopes of an invite.

She snuck up on me one day after school and asked me out to coffee. I agreed since it was a Friday and I had nothing better to do.

I would never have guessed Dylan Marvil would be so easy to talk to. We bonded over our shared love of the original Bond, Sean Connery; our hate of boy bands like NKOTB despite having their Greatest Hits album; and our mutual lack of female friends.

Oh, I must have forgotten to mention that my time spent with Chris caused me to drift away from my friends, leaving me almost entirely self-dependent. So I guess it was almost a sense of desperation that drove me to befriend Dylan.

Because I had assumed our friendship had started on the grounds of manipulation in the hopes of earning an invite to the post prom party, I was surprised when Dylan turned down my plus one offer and instead suggested bowling night with her friends.

Of course her friends meant the clean-cut soccer boys who wore Lacoste and reeked of cologne—which I guess would be a big step up from stench of smoke mixed with Axe I had almost grown accustomed to.

I agreed having forgotten that Dylan's friends also meant her boyfriend Derrick.

Dylan and I showed up at the bowling alley to be greeted by the poster children of Ralph Lauren. One look and I was instantly reminded of Winter Formal freshman year. They smoked, drank and partied just like Chris but in my mind their lifestyles could not have been more distinct. Derrick and the soccer boys thrived on polos, varsity sports and girls decorated with headbands whereas Chris breathed and excelled in drugs and school. For some reason I found this completely unsettling.

"Oh thank God you finally got someone else to discuss tampons and glitter with," Josh Hotz exclaimed to Dylan before he turned to me, "Why aren't you with Chris at the after party? By the way, I have a bone to pick with that bastard for forgetting to invite me."

"Didn't feel like going," I replied curtly. It wasn't that I resented Chris for going without me; in fact I insisted he go, I just didn't feel like explaining, especially not with Derrick in the perimeter.

Things had been unusually stiff between us—if our relationship hadn't already deteriorated throughout the years, sophomore year sure as hell sped up the process. Derrick hadn't so much as spared a glance at me and I hadn't bothered to do anything better.

If being near Derrick wasn't awkward enough, Kemp was there as well. After we broke up in middle school we had barely spoken two words to each other. I guess the only thing standing between Kemp and Derrick becoming friends was me. I smiled politely at Kemp and he waved back. That was the extent of our interaction for the night but it was better than the cold and blank stares exchanged between me and Derrick.

After some chitchat I didn't participate in, we started bowling.

Beginner's luck spoiled me at the start as I bowled a couple strikes but toward the end I could tell Josh and Cam were regretting having me on their team.

By the end of the night I realized what was making me so damn uncomfortable. It wasn't Derrick, Kemp or even the fact we were bowling—it was me. Everyone in my life I could somehow describe and categorize with sports and grades or just simply charm and appeal. Well, everyone except me. What was I? I smoked and partied like the rest of them but other than that I had no defining characters to distinguish myself. I wasn't smart or athletic and, despite what others said, not impressively good looking either. The only thing I was relatively good at was ruining my own life and that didn't even take skill.

While everyone else was talking over pizza after the game I couldn't even bring myself to smile. Everything that had made me happy—ice cream, arcade games, friends—was just so pointless now. I was numb to the point of being unable to feel joy, or any other emotion for that matter.

When the "fun" level I couldn't bring myself to enjoy had become unbearable to me I excused myself, saying Chris was outside to pick me up. Everyone exchanged suspicious looks knowing a post prom celebration that had started just a few hours ago could not possibly have ended so early, but no one stopped me.

I stepped outside into the chill spring breeze and sighed. The moon was full in the sky, which was covered by a thick layer of orange light pollution. Suddenly I felt very cold and lightheaded. I stumbled on my first step to my house but was able to steady myself. As I walked I stared down at my flats and counted each step I took, anything to keep my mind focused.

I don't remember how long it had been but somewhere along the road, exactly 1,052 steps away from the bowling alley, I couldn't bear the throbbing in my head and the numb pain throughout my body anymore. I bent down on the side of the road and hugged myself with my legs pressed against my chest. An unknown amount of time had ticked away before I heard footsteps.

"Are you okay?" It happened again. I heard that calming, gentle voice from behind me. I lifted my head only to suddenly realize I had been crying. My arms were soggy and slippery from tears and snot. I tried to claw away the hair that had stuck to my cheeks. After realizing how absolutely hideous I must have looked I began laughing cynically, yet my throat was so dry the sound coming out of me seemed closer to crocking.

I felt him sit down next to me as I continued to laugh. I must have seemed psychotic, but I could hardly care. After all the laughs had been choked out of me I found myself so empty, so helpless. A little girl sitting on the side of the street. I was in so, so deep in a place I didn't recognize. I had been living in this deep dark grave I had dug myself and no matter what I did I couldn't find my way out. There was no guiding light like when someone is dying. No, the place I was was much worse than death. I was pathetic, really.

His arms were wrapped around me when I realized I was crying again. Except this time I wasn't crying into my arms or my knees, I was pressing myself into his chest because I was so cold, so weak, and so in need of his protection.

"It's okay…it's okay…"

His voice was so soothing that after a while I actually did feel okay. The world had stopped spinning in my mind and his body heat had warmed me. I had just thrown myself the most devastating pity party ever and if it had been anyone else I would have ran away immediately out of pure shame, but he was Derrick and I was myself and everything was okay.

For a while we both sat on the asphalt staring up at the light polluted skies trying to find the glorious stars behind the mist.

He found it before I did, "Sirius, right? See, the world's not ending. Everything is still okay." I follow his finger to find the brightest star in the world, our world, and I can't help but smile.

I was wrong. I still could feel happiness because in that moment I couldn't be any happier.

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**Author's Note**: This was supposed to be posted as two separate chapters but I thought you guys deserved a longer one for waiting 5 days. I forgot to mention that the story would get a little darker starting...well, last chapter. But then again, the summary does a pretty good job of warning you guys (at least I think). Anyways, thanks a bajillion to everyone for continuing to read! Reviews and critiques always make me smile!


	6. Chapter 6

**YEAR 9.8**

.

After that night with Derrick, I felt like things were finally getting back to normal. Our relationship status was still very complicated, but at least now we were able to have regular conversations, something I didn't realize how long I had gone without until one day during lunch when he stopped me on my way to meet up with Chris and his friends.

"Hey hey hey, what's the big rush?" He had suddenly stepped in front of me as I was walking and pressed his hand up in front of me in a "stop" motion.

"What?" I looked at him completely unaware that I had been dashing across the quad to get to the usual spot behind the school tennis courts.

"Are you OK?" He stopped, blocking my path and looking very concerned.

"Ya," I responded with a shrug, it was the truth. There was nothing wrong with me except I had been slightly more fidgety that morning. I hadn't seen or done anything with Chris that whole weekend and I felt kind of on edge, but otherwise I was perfectly fine. "I just need to find Chris."

"Ohh…" his voice trailed off but his expression still held in worry. Now that I think about it, Derrick never really liked Chris even though they shared some close mutual friends. "Well, I guess I'll see you later." He eyed me suspiciously as if I was about to do something completely illegal, like rob a bank, with Chris.

I guess smoking weed was illegal too, but definitely not on the same level as robbing a bank. I didn't realized until I got to the courts that what had been making me so spastic all morning was the lack of hallucinogenics in my bloodstream.

"Hey babe," Chris smiled hazily at me, gave me a quick kiss on the lips before handing me the already lit joint. I took a hit and immediately felt much more calm. All the stressful thoughts of how depressingly pathetic my life was that had formulated in my mind over the weekend immediately faded away.

.

Summer was quickly approaching and it seemed like my life was slowly piecing itself together again. Dylan and I had become closer; we went shopping together and gossiped like all the other girls in school. She seemed to quite literally know everything about everyone and all her stories were extremely intriguing, except when they were about her and Derrick. Those made me feel completely uncomfortable but I let her tell them anyway because what was the point of having boyfriends if you couldn't gush about them.

But it seemed that Dylan was the only one doing the gushing. Chris had been even less attentive than usual. As sophomore year passed, he grew more and more distant. I barely felt like I had a boyfriend at all. At the beginning of the year he would at least bother to call me some nights to talk and say goodnight. Occasionally he would sneak over to my house to pick me up for a midnight drive. Now, though, he had stopped calling and sneaking over all together. More often he would just text, inviting me to smoke or drink with his friends. And even when we were together, he barely looked at me. He would hold onto my hand stiffly, in a more possessive than affectionate way.

Whenever I mentioned him to Dylan she would just go on a nonstop rant about how much I needed to break up with him. That's how I learned to stop bringing Chris up in conversations.

The thing was, I couldn't find a single plausible reason for me to stay with him either. Our relationship was as limp as a scarecrow, almost to the point of me missing the lackluster relationship I had with Kemp in eighth grade.

But for some reason I always felt dependent on him. If I didn't see Chris for more than a few days I would feel anxious and jittery, like I had butterflies all over my body. But it wasn't the good kind you feel when you're around the guy you liked. On the contrary actually, every time I saw Chris the butterflies would flutter away almost instantly.

In reality, I really should have pieced the puzzle together much sooner. I wasn't stupid. I was just in denial. Numb, dark, deep, addiction-soaked denial. At that point, I think it had become pretty apparent to everyone around me but myself.

The thing was, as I became closer with Dylan and her friends, I started spending less time with Chris and his weed. And while I should have been getting better, I was getting worse. Much worse. I wasn't acting like myself. Most of the time, I was either shivering or fidgeting. I often got aggressive around my friends and had reoccurring, uncontrollable mood swings. I started skipping out on schoolwork and eventually, on school altogether. I was self destructing and I didn't even realize.

And just like with the Chris situation, Dylan was the first to confront me. She dragged me to an AA meeting downtown one afternoon, which I found ridiculous and silly since I drank as much as she studied—which meant at a minuscule level. "Why are we here, you know I'm not a alcoholic." I hissed while a lady introduced herself as Patricia and everyone else greeted her with sad, sympathetic eyes.

"Ya but you're a drugaholic and I don't know any pothead help groups, so this is as close as I could get."

I sat laughing for a while until I realized she was being completely serious. "Dylan! I'm not a drug addict!" I screamed a little too dramatically at her before stomping out of the building.

That was the first of many confrontations. At one point even Josh and Cam had sat me down for a little heart to heart.

"Look, I get it, I love my pot as much as the next guy, but you, young lady, are getting waaay ahead of yourself." Josh's little lecture with the help of Cam's occasional input did nothing but irk me. I barely even knew them. They had no right accusing me of having a drug addiction when they were out experimenting with exotic herb mixes every other weekend.

As more and more people confronted me, I got more and more angry. I slowly drew myself away from my friends again and started spending all my time with Chris and his friends. I was back at square one. It felt very lonely there but I couldn't bring myself to leave.

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**Author's Note**: Hey guys! So the main character is going to be revealed next chapter so you can make your guesses now and see if you're right! As always, thank you to everyone for reading and don't forget to make me all happy and jittery inside by reviewing and critiquing!


	7. Chapter 7

**YEAR 9.9**

It was a Thursday afternoon when I heard him knock on my door. It was weird, really. Derrick hadn't willingly been to my house alone since that last day of summer before eighth grade and seeing him standing there reminded me of old times: better times.

"Hi," I breathed with no recognizable emotion on my face. I welcomed him in and led him to the family room.

He sat down across from me and began, "How have you been? You haven't been to school since Monday." Truthfully, I had been ditching class regularly but I didn't think anyone would take notice to my absence, especially not Derrick. Although our rocky relationship had gotten better, it was nowhere near where it had been before.

"Yea," I sat tapping my feet against the oak floors, "I've just been really tired." It wasn't completely a lie. I had been tired, but most likely because I was lacking sleep. It was almost like I had become an insomniac, I couldn't put myself to sleep at night so I would stay up late and watch classic romantic films through the night instead. My lifestyle had become clearly unhealthy seeing as I wasn't sleeping at all and I was binge eating uncontrollably.

Derrick rested his elbows on his legs and hooked them together in front of him as he scanned the room for a while, as if he was cautiously approaching uncharted territory. "Look," He finally started after a long pause, "I know this is a sensitive subject for you but just hear me out." Another pause as he rearranged words in his mind. "People have been telling me about a… problem you have. I mean I should have seen it too, but I guess I was just too self obsessed to see you were having problems."

I stared at him in complete disbelief as he tried to keep elaborating. "I just didn't know Chris had such a strong influence over you."

"What?" I didn't realized how loud my voice had projected until it echoed through the room. "You think I can't control myself? You know, you have got some _nerve_ coming here after four years of ignoring me and treating me like complete shit. Who are _you_ to judge who Chris is, who I am, who anyone is, for that matter." My voice was rising and I couldn't stop it. "You know what, I think you need to leave." I said in a contrived but much more even tone than before.

"OK, I get your mad, but please just calm down and listen."

"You know what, I can't calm down and I won't calm down." My voice began shaking but I had to continue and explain. I wasn't crazy and I was definitely not an addict. "Everyone's just judging me. You're judging me and I don't even know you anymore." I was trembling and I had my face in my hands and everything was falling apart all over again. "I'm normal. I'm not psychotic. Just leave me alone. Please." I was sobbing again. Who knows how many times he had seen me like this. So weak and so pathetic.

"I understand," He set his hand on my knee and squeezed encouragingly, "The feeling you get every time you think you're missing Chris, it's called withdrawal. You're tired, you're jittery, you have sudden mood swings. It's all signs of withdrawal, you're just not aware of the fact you're withdrawing. And every time you start feeling these symptoms you run back to Chris because you can't stop. You need more."

"For the last time," I had gathered myself enough to say through gritted teeth, "I'm not addicted."

"Okay fine, prove it. Stop."

That's when I realized he was right. I couldn't. I didn't want to stay with Chris because I liked him in the slightest bit—maybe I did at the beginning but that was so far back that I couldn't even remember the feeling of wanting to be with him just for him. He was my one supply of weed and I took it. I finally recognized the reason I stayed with Chris. It was so simple and so obvious but I couldn't see it myself. I had to have Derrick, someone who wasn't even in my life anymore, explain it to me to realize the facts.

**YEAR 10**

So I guess, that's how I ended up here for two months. My whole summer spent recovering. But it wasn't a waste, no that's not what you want to hear. You want me to admit it. That I was a drug addict and that now I'm better. And you know what, I do admit that.

I, Massie Block, was an addict and am still recovering.

So that's the story (every dotting detail) of how I got here, in this rehab facility for recovering teens. It's almost ironic, isn't it? It all began and ended with Derrick Harrington. If it wasn't for him, I would never have turned toward Chris and drugs, but without him I would have never gotten out.

So, what's the conclusion? What is the verdict on Derrick? I guess even now, after ten years of knowing him, he's still a mystery. And after everything that's happened, I still don't know whether to identify him as a friend or an enemy.

But you and all the other staff members said it yourselves. It's a new beginning now. My plate has been emptied and it's time to start fresh. The world as I know it is completely different now and I, as a person, am too.

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**Author's Note**: I'm so sorry for taking so long to upload! So I guess a lot of you guessed right (it was Massie! Shocker, right? haha) I know this is a horrible way to end this story but I think I'm going to keep it like this for a while (lets just call it hiatus for now). As usual, comments and critics are more than welcome. Let me know how you guys feel about the story as it is :)


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